The Rose Window

So it’s #EarthDay and I’m feeling a bitter-sweet combination of overwhelming grief for the utter devastation humans cause and overflowing love and wonder for our world as Spring emerges.

I listened to Benedict Cumberbatch reading a griefstricken Apology from a Father to his Children written by Stuart Capstick, deputy director at the Centre for Climate Change & Social Transformations in Cardiff as part of a series of Live Letters. The letter expresses the split consciousness that occurs when we live in a human reality that we know is unsustainable yet continue with business as usual.

I want you to know that the hardest thing was living through a time when we could have turned this around but most people just carried on as if it didn't…… the world, the thoughtless concrete and metal fume-choked all-consuming human world rumbled on deaf to the warnings and unwilling to lift a finger…

I’m also immensely grateful for the invitation to steep in the beauty and possibility of Spring within Spring Light Writing Sanctuary. Beth’s gently provoking invitations always call forth a deep writing from the quick of me - here’s a few lines from what emerged today.

Will we listen to each other and to the worlds within worlds on this amazing planet? Whilst some children scavenge in rubbish dumps, swimming in pools of pollution, others are pristinely presented as prodigies in institutions whose rubbish is bagged up and shipped away for tiny hands to sort. The worlds within this world are so often wrapped up in their seeming all-encompassing realities, circumscribed by their terms and conditions and filtered by their vantage point, yet they are all intimately connected and held in the planetary arms of Earth.

So here I am inhabiting my little mini-sphere, wishing for a road map of recovery and urgently needed, fully embodied love for the world that holds all the worlds, this extraordinary place we call home.

Here in London the half-cold, half-warm breath of Spring softly seeps in through concrete doors, breathing life and the promise of Spring back into our winter-crunched bodies, inviting us to dare and dance gently and fearlessly with life - come what may. Beyond the grimy windows, the huge snake of the Thames twists and turns. Though cluttered with the spokes of bridges, the bars of concrete barriers and the litter of innumerable daily passengers, it remains the artery of life pulsing through the city. Clusters of riverside tree families are newly dressed in neon-green buds of unfurling leaves, their branches spiking views of concrete rooves. As I sit amongst a selection of strangers, their sparrow voices chirruping, woodpecker fingers tapping keyboards, it’s clear that for all our industrialised digital disconnection and displays of dominion, we cannot escape our natural roots. We do not inhabit nature, we are nature and what we do to the planet is what will become of us.

It feels very potent that #WorldVoiceDay and #EarthDay are only six days apart. 
I believe that our voices can make a huge difference - that as we tune our own magical vocal instrument, we become more attuned to the world around us. So if you’re can make it to South London this weekend, do join me at Our Voice, Our Planet this weekend - Spring weather permitting we even may go outside and sing to some trees!